


Post

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As usual, Tauriel stands watch while her lords... enjoy themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She stands at rigid attention behind the tree that Legolas leans against, her eyes fixed forward into the general darkness of the Greenwood. Her ears are sharply perked for signs of the hunting party, lest any stray too close to their lords. Once again, she was stationed with them, apparently more to play lookout than for actual protection. It seems that her king finds no creature in the woods as worthy of his attention as his son. 

He won that hunt a long time ago. And Legolas is a magnificent catch, so Tauriel can hardly blame him. Yet it’s always an odd feeling to face away from them, standing so close that she can hear every breath, smell the slight odor of arousal in the air and even sense their warmth. Even if she hadn’t seen their idle kisses and promises and positioning beforehand, she’d be able to put the scene together from her other senses. 

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have to. The image is seared into her brain: Legolas’ lean form splayed along the trunk, his father knelt proudly at his feet, nuzzling into the sizeable bulge of his crotch. She can picture perfectly the little details of Legolas threading his slender fingers through his father’s long, white-blond hair, gently holding his head in place, while Thranduil’s dark lashes flutter against his cheek and his blunt nose digs into the slight yellow fuzz of Legolas’ stomach. Fabric’s been neatly drawn out of the way, heavy cloaks shed, armour clinking in the subtle shifts between one movement and another. Thranduil is quiet around his son’s cock, only the tiniest of wet squelching sounds escaping. Legolas aims to be as silent, but his quickened breath gives him away, languid and erotic, hitched here and there or warped around the whisper of a moan. Occasionally, he lets out a shuddering, “ _Ada_...” And Tauriel will have to grit her teeth and will the fantasies away. 

She has no chance with either of them, of course, and she doesn’t even have a real wish for them: not with for either with _her_ , anyway. But _together_ , they’re a beautiful painting, and of course their pleasure fills her, the sensuality of their love-making spilling out beyond the roots of their bed. She wonders where Thranduil’s hands are now—pawing at Legolas’ hips, squeezing his thighs?—and it makes her bite her bottom lip. For all their disagreements, all their tensions, when they do find things to share in, it’s too exquisite for this world. 

She hears Legolas reach his end. She’s done this enough times to know the sound of his release like the back of her hand. He makes a noise deep in his throat, and she imagines him thrusting his hips forward, driving himself further down his father’s throats, all ten fingers knotted in his father’s hair. His head will be thrown back against the tree, blue eyes shut and pink lips open, trying not to moan his father’s name. And Thranduil will likely be smirking around his mouthful, drinking in the sight of his gorgeous heir undone. 

A quiet ‘pop’ signals that Thranduil’s pulled off his prize. Tauriel wonders dizzily if they’re finished, or if Thranduil will push Legolas down and claim him in the grass, fuck him hard over twisted rocks and branches. Legolas would simply curl around him and take it, basking in the rare affection until his father spilled the same seed that made him into his pliant body. But today, she hears only the telltale signs of redressing, and a moment later, Thranduil appears from behind the tree. 

Tauriel doesn’t look at him. She never can, knowing where his mouth’s just been; it’s difficult enough to keep from blushing as it is. Legolas joins them just as Thranduil orders her, “Signal the others. We’ll be returning for the night.” Tauriel bows her head in acceptance. Thranduil appears cool and collected, but Legolas, like her, is pointedly averting his gaze. His face is flushed and perhaps a little strained. 

Tauriel murmurs, “Yes, my lord,” more huskily than she means to and sweeps quickly off into the forest.


End file.
